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Paul Asay
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Movie Review

When Jesus cured the blind man in John 9, all He needed was a little mud.

Dr. Ming Wang requires more.

Oh, sure, some might say that Ming is a miracle worker in his own right. But the good doctor knows that curing someone’s sight takes more than mud. It takes knowledge. It takes skill. And Ming (he might say with all due modesty) has plenty of both. You’d expect nothing less from the country’s best eye surgeon.

That knowledge and those skills didn’t come through any sort of miraculous intervention, either—at least not in Ming’s thinking. He earned both. Boy, did he earn them.

Ming grew up in China during its brutal Cultural Revolution, when activists shut down schools, tried to sweep away millennia of history and repaint Chinese society in red. It’s hard to learn medicine when no one will teach you. It’s hard to become a healer when the country’s powers would rather turn you into a killer.

Ming’s journey to Harvard, MIT and, ultimately, Tennessee contained plenty of twists and turns, dips and dead ends. But after decades of work and study and sacrifice, he made good on his promise to his parents and himself. He became a doctor, the sort of doctor that people from all over the world ask—sometimes beg—for help. And when the surgery is successful (as it so often is), he poses with his grateful patients as the cameras flash and the people applaud.

But Ming knows that even he has his limits.

Take Kajal, a young girl from the slums of Calcutta. Those who are blind there make better beggars, we learn. So Kajal’s stepmother intentionally poured sulfuric acid into the girl’s eyes.

But Kajal’s life took a turn for the better. Now in the care of kindly Sister Marie, she’s in the U.S. to see if Dr. Wang just might be able to find what she lost: Perhaps he can help this little blind girl see again.

Ming takes a look at Kajal’s eyes and doesn’t see a lot of hope for her. Might Ming do something? Perhaps. But it’s a small chance. And if the surgery fails, there will be no applause.

But something about the girl reminds him of another he used to know, long, long ago. Ming’s touched by her story. And even though he tells Sister Marie how slim the chances are for success, Marie reminds him how much Kajal has already been through.

“She has traveled across the world for a chance,” Marie says. “Even a slim chance.”

Ming works miracles, some say. But he’ll need more than mud to bring sight to this little girl. He’ll need all his knowledge, all his skill—and even then, it might not be enough.


Positive Elements

Based on the true story of Dr. Ming Yang and his revolutionary work, Sight splits the narrative between following Ming on his way to becoming a doctor (both in China and stateside) and his work as a doctor in Tennessee—particularly his work with Kajal. He’s an easy guy to root for on both timelines.

As a boy and a young man, Ming works furiously to make good on his own and his family’s ambitions for him. Faced with tremendous obstacles, Ming somehow manages to find a way over or around or through. When he does become a doctor, he obviously cares for his patients (as most doctors do).

But he seems to feel particularly responsible for Kajal, working some incredibly long hours to try to return the girl’s sight. After the surgery, we learn that Ming started his own charitable foundation to restore sight to the world’s most needy, free of charge. (The film tells us his foundation has helped people from more than 40 states and 55 countries.)

But as admirable and as laudable as Ming’s story might be, I was struck by the people who came alongside him, led him forward and, sometimes, nudged him back on the right track.

Obviously, Ming’s parents played a huge role in Ming’s life, serving as strong, brave role models as Ming grows to maturity. When the Cultural Revolution unleashes its horrors on Chinese society, Ming’s mom and dad bravely push on. His father, a doctor himself, instills in Ming a love of his native China, too, pushing back against the Revolution’s aims of sweeping away the country’s past. “They don’t understand the reason why China is great [is] because of the tradition, because the people here believe in honor and sacrifice,” he tells young Ming.

They serve as strong role models for the grown Tennessee doctor, too. His mother, Alian, frets that her son just might drop from exhaustion. And his dad, Zhensheng, comes alongside Ming when the doctor might be at his lowest—reminding Ming of a beloved Chinese poet and encouraging him to move forward.

Dr. Misha Bartnovsky, Ming’s associate, serves Ming as his assistant, his friend and, at times, his conscience. When Ming worries that Kajal’s case is too difficult, Misha gently prods him to take it. When Ming spins through a crisis of confidence, Misha helps tether him. “We can only do our best,” he tells Ming. “It’s all we can do.”

When Ming arrives in the U.S. to begin his medical education, a college professor encourages Ming’s ambitions—telling him that he’s destined for great things.

And Kajal, too, inspires Ming. I’ll have more to say about that in the section below. But here, I’ll simply say this: While Ming did his best to save Kajal’s eyesight, the doctor was in need of a little healing, too—and Kajal was instrumental in helping his own healing process along.

Spiritual Elements

The real Dr. Wang is a committed Christian. But Sight presents us with a portrait of Ming Wang who, through most of the film, really doesn’t express much religious interest at all.

Part of that may stem from the communist, atheistic society he was raised in. Religion was always looked down upon in the China ruled by Mao Zedong, and exponentially more so during the Cultural Revolution. One question does haunt Ming, though: “What happens when we die?” his longtime friend, Lili, asked him once. “Is it just darkness?” It’s an important question—so important that the movie itself opens with it.

The question is all the more haunting in that soon he and Lili would be separated—apparently forever. But then, about the time that Kajal arrives at his clinic, Ming starts seeing Lili again—walking the halls or staring at him from across a room. Ming wonders whether he’s seeing ghosts or going mad.

Ming is very interested in clearing away the physical darkness caused by blindness when he can. But it takes some time for him to realize that the greater darkness is spiritual. Kajal, his small patient, may be blind, but her spiritual sight surpasses that of Ming. Before surgery, she expresses her gratitude not only to her doctors, but “to God.” Afterward, she gives him the gift of a Catholic rosary—one that Ming thoughtfully toys with. “I’ll be praying for you,” she tells him.

And Sister Marie tells Ming that Kajal is, blind or not, a miracle herself: “Look what God uses when we refuse to believe there is no purpose,” Sister Marie says.

Sister Marie expresses her own hope in God as well. And during Kajal’s surgery, we see her praying in the hospital chapel. She tells Ming that Kajal, in spite of her own difficulties, facilitates prayers for others, “asking God to give them strength through their difficulties.”

Ming looks at a nearby cross toward the end of the movie—another indication, it would seem, that he’s moving toward faith. One of Ming’s patients was brought to his office by an American couple, who met the patient while on a mission trip.

Sexual & Romantic Content

Ming and Lili started out as the best of friends back in China. She seems to be a part of his life from the very beginning. And while we never see any real physical affection between the two, Ming’s attachment to Lili grows much stronger over time. In fact, Ming tells Lili that as long as they’re together, they’ll always be just fine—and he invites Lili to come with him when Ming becomes a doctor. (The destination is uncertain, but the implication is that they might leave China.)

They’re not able to run off together, of course: We know that Ming continues to think about Lili often, and Ming’s younger brother kids him about never dating. But about the time of Kajal’s surgery, Ming does meet someone else, and they begin seeing each other.

Misha, meanwhile, is married. And at his 20th anniversary party, he tells Ming that he needs to leave his company and “flirt with my wife.”

Violent Content

Sight lands its PG-13 rating primarily because of some disturbing (though not overly graphic) scenes of violence. All feel germane to the movie itself, but viewers should nevertheless be warned.

Most of Kajal’s blinding is kept off screen. But we do see her stepmother pay some shadowy merchant for the powdered chemical. It’s added to boiling water. The stepmother takes the concoction to Kajal’s bedside, forces the girl to face her and then (again, just off camera) pours it into the girl’s eyes as we hear her scream.

Cultural Revolution activists instigate their own forms of violence. The Revolution’s apparent leader in Ming’s hometown is a youth named Lao Bin. We first meet him and his posse when they storm into Ming’s history class. They force the class to shut down, punch the teacher in the stomach and forces an unwilling Ming to write on the chalkboard, “Down with teacher Zhao!” (Lao Bin shortly thereafter slaps Ming across the face, bloodying it. Books are burned and “teacher Zhao” is led away, with others, to an uncertain fate.)

Ming and Lao Bin’s paths continue to intersect. He demands that Ming join the Revolution. When an old, blind friend tries to intercede, the revolutionaries knock the man down and kick him until he’s bloodied and motionless. Later, Lao Bin slugs Ming in the face, knocking him to the ground, and drags Lili away.

Revolutionaries also storm the medical university laboratory where Ming’s parents work. We see them begin to rampage through the halls, tossing papers and throwing punches. Ming’s father pushes him into a closet and tells him to keep quiet, no matter what. (He holds the doorknob still when someone tries to open the door.) When the chaos subsides and Ming opens the door, he discovers that his mother has been particularly hurt by the mob. Her face is a mass of cuts and bruises. And while we don’t hear how far the assault went, a viewer might well surmise that Ming’s mom could have been sexually assaulted as well.

We see Ming’s father try to treat someone whose eyes were hurt in a chemical accident (to no avail). Some close-up images of eyes can get a little gruesome.

Crude or Profane Language

One use each of “d–n” and “crap.”

Drug & Alcohol Content

Ming and Misha drink whiskey at a party. Ming drinks elsewhere, and during a very difficult time, he may over-imbibe. (Ming doesn’t seem drunk. But he does accidentally break a treasured instrument he learned how to play in China, and a telltale bottle of booze sits by his phone in one scene.)

Ming also gets to know a bartender. (She tells him that, as his bartender, “We can now engage in the very sacred ritual where you tell me your problems, I listen, and you spend a tenth of a price of a therapist.”) Characters drink champagne at a gala event. (Wine is quaffed as well.)

Other Noteworthy Elements

When Ming was in China, he had to deal with the Cultural Revolution. When he arrives in the States, he has another issue to deal with: racism. It takes the form of a college professor barely glancing at his application for medical school before telling him to go into something else. It takes the form of a restaurant patron who tells Ming (who’s working at the restaurant), “Give me some Kung Fu chicken, boy!”

While Ming definitely wants his patients to see, he’s also quite aware that successful surgeries bring great publicity. Because of that, there’s a certain selfishness about his success at first. And when the work isn’t going as well, he and Misha clash at times. “Go crash and burn by yourself,” Misha tells Ming when Ming is overworking. “I’m always the one picking up the pieces around here anyway.”

“You can’t do any of this without me,” Ming mutters.

Conclusion

Sight, the movie’s title, comes with a double meaning. Yes, it’s about Dr. Ming Wang’s work restoring sight to the blind. But it reminds us that the most crippling blindness isn’t that of the eyes, but of the heart.

Yes, Kajal comes into the movie blind. But Sight suggests that, in some ways, she sees better than the driven, publicity-minded Dr. Wang. She sees the love of God. She sees the everyday miracles. She sees the needs of people around her in ways that Ming can’t—or won’t—take the time to see.

Sight does this without diminishing the important, near-miraculous work that Ming does (and that the real Dr. Wang continues to do). But it reminds us that sometimes, when we keep our eyes focused on the Hollywood happy ending, we lose sight—truly—of the underlying, saving truth: God is with us. God loves us. And even when heartbreak happens, when tragedy visits, when we suffer unimaginable difficulties, God can redeem it all.

God loves His twists. He likes taking our expectations and flipping them on their heads, creating a beauty and power we’d never expect.

In the film, a young Ming Wang learns to play an instrument called the erhu, a sort of two-stringed fiddle. He learns from Lili’s blind father that one of his favorite erhu pieces, “Two Springs Reflect the Moon,” was written by a blind composer—one who had never seen a spring, or a reflection, or a moon. The composer, Ah Bing, had to imagine it all, and in so doing brought beauty and meaning to the image that a sighted composer could never have equaled.

“It’s because of this I have hope to hang on to,” the old man says. “Ah Bing imagined beauty even though he could not see.”

Those who go to see Sight will see some difficult, violent images. But they’ll also be witness to a powerful story. In a film titled Sight, the physical meaning of the title becomes almost an afterthought. Instead, we may be reminded of another great composition:

I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see.


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Paul Asay

Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.

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